Laced Steel: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Steel Crew Book 3)

by Mj Fields

  “Once in a lifetime girl, huh?” She does that crinkled-up nose smile that blows any fucking duck lips, or pouty-faced, or open mouth smile on her IG page out of the fucking water.

  “Amuse me. Tell me why I picked these?”

  She shakes her head, her cheeks turning pink.

  “I’ll give you a hint.”

  She grins and nods.

  I take her hand, hold it up, and spin her in a circle once, twice, and then three times.

  When she’s finally facing me, she smiles. “They look like tiny dancers.”

  “Their botanical name is impatiens bequaertii, more commonly known as Dancing Girls, and they are now unofficially going to be referred to as Dancing Truths.”

  “I love them.” She smiles, once again lifting them to her nose but not smelling them. She rubs her lips back and forth against them with her eyes closed.

  When she finally looks up, she smiles brighter. “I think I love fourth grade the best.”

  “Perfect. Think you’re going to love the summer before your senior year.” I wink and watch her smile wobble into an almost frown. I can’t help but laugh as I lean in and kiss the top of her head. “Should have gone with regular red impatiens.”

  She laughs as she pushes me away, but she does it gripping my button down.

  “Should we go?”

  She looks back at her parents and holds the flowers up.

  Cyrus kind of glowers at me. Tara holds her hands to her heart and hip-checks him.

  “You wanna leave the flowers here?” I ask.

  “They should be in water, but also”—she rubs her lips across them again—“I kind of don’t wanna give them up just yet.”

  I take them from her, snap one of the flowers off, and put it in her hair. “Problem solved.”

  She smiles as she turns then hurries to her parents, while I walk over and open the passenger door. Tara smiles, and I can’t help thinking about her words and wanting to continue making her proud.

  Planning a date is taxing, especially when you’re trying to impress someone who has everything. Even the weather was important, and thankfully, it cooperated.

  Sitting on an outside deck at a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, not an Olive Garden, our knees rub against each other’s under the table and our pinkies are linked across the table where we watch the sunset as we wait for the dessert that Truth chose, Tiramisu, that she swears I’m going to love.

  Unlinking our pinkies, she stands, leans across the table, and then kisses me on the cheek, promising she’ll be back before the sun sets so we can watch it together.

  As soon as she’s inside, I nod to the waiter, who happens to be the owner’s son that I spoke to on the phone to make sure they could accommodate the night I had planned in my head, a night a girl like Truth deserved..

  When she walks out, she looks around, eyes widening right along with her smile, as hundreds of tiny white lights seemingly dance over us on the trees that sway in the evening breeze.

  I reach out my hand for her to take and pull her into me, and then we dance to a song that my mom used to play on repeat when I was little, “Tiny Dancer.” With my hands on her hips and hers linked behind my neck, we gently sway to the music.

  Looking down into her green eyes, I want to kiss her now, but I’m forcing myself to take it slow for a different reason than before—anticipation.

  I lean in and brush my lips against her forehead, my heart beating faster as our bodies meld together, our rhythm syncing immediately. We dance like we’ve done it a million times before.

  When the song ends, we continue to sway, and from over her shoulder, I watch as our waiter brings out the Tiramisu, as planned. When he looks up, he does an about-face and heads right back in, improvising when the plan changed, and doing a damn good job of it.

  I look down at her, leaning in until our faces nearly touch. Her lips part, and I smell the raspberry scent of the tea we just drank. I brush my lips against hers, as if I’ve done a hundred times before and take in the softness of her skin, like flower petals against mine.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Idiom

  With A Burning Desire.

  Truth

  Okay, I totally get this one… now.

  As soon as he held my face between his hands, I knew this was it, the moment that Tobias Easton finally kisses me the way I have dreamt about him kissing me for what feels like forever.

  I wasn’t turned on immediately; I was fucking terrified that I would screw it up somehow. And let’s be honest, even though I’ve danced for years, being around him seems to induce vertigo.

  When he opened his mouth, and I felt him tracing my lips with his tongue, it was as if he was erasing my unease, and I began to melt.

  When he pushed it inside of my mouth, the manly smell of him mixed with his own knee-weakening tasted dipped in raspberry caused the butterflies to swarm at a newfound fury.

  Rubbing my tongue against his, I was rewarded with a low groan that caused my nipples to tighten and my hands to grip his shoulders just so I could pull him closer.

  What started as a slow, mutual exploration, the start of us getting to know each other’s mouths, slowly morphs into two people, expressing without words, their desires for one another.

  All concerns that I am more desperate for this than he is are gone when he grips my hips, kneading them, and then holding them as if he may push me away when I feel his erection press against me.

  He starts to pull his mouth from mine, and I push my tongue against his with an urgent need to keep part of him inside of me.

  The feelings … sharing ourselves, give, take, need, and want, all dance euphorically inside of us.

  He deepens the kiss, removing one of his hands from my hip to grip the back of my head, moving it to accommodate his need to devour me. When he slows and pulls his tongue from mine, he sucks on my lower lip and lets it fall from his mouth as he presses his forehead against mine.

  I close my eyes in an attempt to steady my heart and catch my breath as he does the same. When I open them, he lets out a hot burst of air that sounds almost angry as he opens his eyes.

  All I can manage to say is, “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” he huffs. “Definitely.”

  Behind us, a throat clears, and Tobias looks over my head.

  “Are you ready for dessert now?”

  I look behind us. “We’ll take it to go.”

  When I look back at him, he smiles. “Good call.”

  Tobias needed “a minute” before we turned on a movie.

  So did I, but not with distance like he needs. No, I need a minute times a thousand more of him kissing me.

  I have no idea what movie we decided on, because I couldn’t stop looking at his lips. And when I wasn’t looking at those, I was looking at the outline running down his left pants leg.

  “Truth, you gotta cool it,” he said, as if pained.

  When I didn’t look away, he tried to adjust himself.

  I laughed, and he gave me one of those intimidating looks that doesn’t make me any less tingly.

  “Truth, you—”

  “I’m gonna look at you. You can’t tell me I can’t.”

  “I love that you wanna look at me, but looking at my dick isn’t helping shit settle down.”

  “You’re definitely a grower,” I whispered as I forced myself to look away.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He laughed.

  “Nope.”

  “Truth, you are something else, you know.”

  “It wasn’t an insult at all, so why are you”—I laughed; knowing what I know, I couldn’t stop what came out of my mouth next—“getting all bent out of shape?”

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He laughed genuinely.

  “And you’re the best kisser in the world.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely better than—”

  “Shut it down,” he warned.

  Thinking about the
kiss makes me burn, and after the closet incident, I know what eases the burn—him.

  When he walks out of his bathroom and sees me sitting on his bed, Tiramisu container open on my lap, I hold up the fork. “Dessert?”

  His jaw tightens, but he nods. “How about we take that to the couch?”

  I stick the fork in the Tiramisu then shove a big bite into my mouth. Then I stick the fork into the dessert again and hold it up to him.

  He nods and walks over, sits on the bed, and opens his mouth. “Fucking delicious,” he moans when the piece hits his tongue.

  I take another forkful then make quick work of getting on his lap.

  “Truth, we need—”

  “What I need is to take the edge off.” I push him back onto the bed.

  “You know what you’re doing?” he asks through clenched teeth.

  “What feels right,” I answer, pushing his shirt up and dropping the forkful on his abs.

  “Baby …” he hisses.

  “Not breaking any rules, Tobias; just having a little dessert,” I say, bending down and using my lips to smear it all over his hard six pack abs.

  “Fuck,” he moans as I lean down, lick his abs and rock against him.

  I look up at him. “I’m hungry and burning.”

  “So, multitasking,” he hisses as he grips my hips and rocks against me.

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  “You think I don’t want to be inside of you right now, you’re dead fucking wrong,” he groans as I lick up his chest and try to unbutton his shirt.

  He bats my hand away and does it himself.

  His chest bare to me, I moan, “Jesus, you’re perfect.”

  “Guessing you are, too.” He rolls his hips against me. “Can you come this way, Truth?”

  “I think that one night proved—”

  “No, none of that wet spot shit. Can you come hard?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d really like to find out.”

  He sits up, and I watch his muscles flex as he tosses his shirt off then grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head.

  “How about like this?” He grips my hips and slides my body up and down his covered erection.

  “Hope so,” I whimper.

  He unclasps my bra with one hand, cups the bottom of my ass, lifts me and, in a split-second, I’m on my back.

  Kneeling between my legs, he reaches behind him, and when his hand reappears, it’s covered in Tiramisu. “Lose the bra and show me your tits, Truth.”

  Holy shit, I think as I pull my bra off and toss it aside.

  Immediately, he smears the cake across my boobs, hands gripping them firmly, and runs his thumbs across my aching nipples.

  “You’re fucking beautiful, Truth, and after this, you’re never gonna forget it, and neither will I.”

  My body trembles at his words that are not just words. In his eyes, I see a promise. I see forever.

  “Forgive me if I forget to say it again while I eat your tits.”

  A million butterflies transform into fireflies as he makes his way lower and lower, his Persian blue eyes closing when he groans, and then opening with each moan that escapes me.

  He devours me with his mouth as he firmly grips, caresses, and touches every untouched part of my body, awakening me sexually in a way I could have never imagined.

  The strings to my thong snap as he pushes his hands under my ass, dragging me to the end of his bed. Then he stands up, kissing me harder than before, as he splits me with his fingers, entering me, pleasuring me.

  He steps off the bed, still fingering my soaked center, as the walls of my insides wither under his touch. Another finger, and his movements harsher, my moans turn to cries.

  Gripping the bedspread, I begin to rock against him, chasing a feeling, desperately wanting the burn to detonate into an orgasm that I know will change my life.

  Between my legs, he kneels down and covers me with his mouth as he licks and sucks my most private parts.

  More pressure, another finger, and then the burn intensifies, as does the need for release. He sucks my clit, and I cry out, my head thrashing back and forth as he continues.

  Eyes closed, I arch into him … when he stops.

  “You want my cock, Truth?”

  “I want all of you,” I breathe out as I look him over. “Every part of you.”

  I watch his eyes snap shut and, for a second, I fear he’s going to stop, but then I hear him breathe out, “Fuck yes,” as he rolls on a condom.

  He crashes his lips against mine and kisses me hard as he fucks me with his fingers. Again, I’m on the verge when he stops, leans over, grabs his cock, and rubs it against my pussy.

  “Fuck. I wanna eat you again.” Leaning over me, his dick pushes inside of me just a bit, as he pushes two fingers into my mouth. “Taste how good you are. Fucking taste your pussy.”

  I hold his hand with mine and lick his fingers.

  “Jesus Christ, I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

  “I’ll never stop giving it to—”

  “This is gonna hurt,” he interrupts me, “but if I don’t do it now, I’m going back down on you for days.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He slams into me, giving no pause, while I try to catch my breath. He just keeps fucking me.

  “I’m sorry.” He then scolds himself. “I promise it’s gonna get better.”

  “Truth?” I whimper out when I can finally get my breath back.

  “Always.” He thrusts in, looking down at our connection.

  “I’ve never felt anything so good in my fucking life.”

  He looks up at me and smirks. “Then you’re in for one hell of a good life, Tiny T.”

  “Promise?” I moan.

  “One I’ll never break.”

  Pain is replaced by pleasure, and when I come, I see stars dancing amongst my forever.

  “I love you.” He kisses me reverently as he lays on top of me.

  “I love you, too.” I smile against his lips, still trying to catch my breath.

  “Tell me something?” I ask.

  “Almost anything. But I do have some secrets I have to keep.”

  “Why Tiny T?”

  “I knew playing the game we were would end in an explosion.”

  “T and T.” I laugh.

  “Didn’t realize it would be this fucking good, but I’m so glad it is.”

  Laying in his arms I smile; he pushes my hair away from my face and I look up at him.

  “You underestimated your promise,” I sigh.

  “About?”

  “I’m not just going to love the summer before my senior year, I’m going to fucking love it.”

  He smirks, “Yeah?”

  “Most definitely.”

  ### The End ###

  Epilogue

  After

  TRUTH

  Walking into the house after the single best night of my life, dread hangs over me like a storm cloud at an outdoor concert. I’m sure Dad will be waiting up for me. It never fails, whether I’m out alone or with the girls, he waits for me, but not if I’m with Patrick or Justice.

  Heading up the stairs, my heart beats in my chest because I want to bask in the bliss, but I know I’m about to delve into disappointment.

  When I see Mom is at the kitchen island, wiping it down, even though it’s clean, I feel relieved.

  Smiling softly, too softly, like she knows something, as she remarks, “The flowers are beautiful.”

  I nod as I lean over the counter and smell them. Then, leaning back, I tell her, “Their botanical name is impatiens bequaertii, but called Dancing Girls. They’re perfect.”

  “That’s precious.” She smells them again then looks up and smiles. “How was your date?”

  “Good.”

  She turns around and opens the fridge. “Did you actually eat at dinner, or were you too nervous?”

  “I actually ate.” I smile as I sit down.

  “Room for dessert?”
/>
  Oh, dear God, I think as I literally feel my face flush.

  “Maybe a water?”

  “Water, it is.” She grabs two waters out of the fridge, walks back over, and sits next to me.

  “So, tell me all about it.” She smiles as she pulls her feet up on the padded leather bar stool, wraps her arms around her knees, and rests her chin on them.

  It’s been a long time since Mom and I have chatted like this, and it dawns on me that it’s been since my pirouette spun out of control.

  She reaches over and wipes my cheek. I didn’t even know a tear had fallen.

  “Talk to me, Truth.”

  “We danced.” I smile and a giggle escapes. “We danced, Mom.”

  After we hug and laugh together, Mom pushes my hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear. She looks down at her finger, and I see some Tiramisu.

  “Dessert.” I cringe.

  She wipes it off on a napkin. “It’s been almost a year; do you think maybe you’re ready to dance on stage again?”

  I couldn’t even describe what I’m feeling. It wouldn’t make sense. Overwhelmed? Terrified? Happy? “I don’t know.”

  “I think you are,” she says softly. “I think maybe, as much as your father and I tried to be louder than the voices causing you to doubt yourself, it wasn’t enough. But I do see a light returning to your eyes. Your confidence coming back.”

  “I miss it, Mom. I miss it so much. But there isn’t time. College auditions are just around the corner, and I’m not even close to being ready.”

  Dad’s voice comes from behind me, “Get rid of the doubt, Truth. You can do this, if it’s truly what you want. You just have to do the work.”

  I turn around and look at him. He’s dressed in sweats and a tank top, with slides on. Clearly, he wasn’t in bed.

  My voice is shaky when I ask, “Where did you come from?”

  “Just talking with Tobias outside.” He raises an eyebrow.

  Fuck!